Sunday, September 28, 2008

Bonfire fun

When I was a kid we lived in Lincolnshire (a great place if you don't mind the smell of cabbages and sprouts and lack of hills - actually it's nowhere near as bad as that and I really do quite like the place).

We were fortunate enough to live in a large house that had a decent size garden and attached paddock (read big field that we couldn't do anything with). One of my Father's great joys, and still is as far as I know, although he's in a much smaller house and garden now, was to burn his garden waste on what he called a "bunty" or bonfire. Memories fade of course, but I seem to recall that there was a bunty going every weekend during my childhood and sometimes they burnt for weeks.

What fun we had as kids poking sticks into said bunty, and messing about with the ensuing firebrands.

Why this sudden reminiscence? Well today I was hacking down (well rather gingerly snipping) a rose bush that had gone rather wild in our front garden. Many of it's branches were dead and only a few top shoots (on a 5ft/6ft bush) were actually showing anything green. As an aside, it also had the most thorns on it I've ever seen on a rose. My arms and hands look like I've done battles with a multi-fanged monster tonight.

After dumping all the clippings on the floor I decided to burn them - the council green waste collection has finished now until March (obviously not year round gardeners at the Council), and I couldn't be arsed to take them to the tip. So I set fire to them. Oh how those memories came flooding back as I nurtured the little pile to flame, aided on occasions by a soupçon of white spirit (I know, I know - I just couldn't help myself, and besides, I couldn't find the can of petrol I have lying around somewhere)!

It was such fun, though I'm not sure the neighbours were impressed by the billowing white smoke. Even my othe half came out to look and urge me on with the white spirit and had a little prod with a stick herself - I'd rather expected her to berate me or riase her eyes in an "Oh my God, what's he up to now?" sort of way, but love her, she didn't.

Anyway, my pile of rose twigs/branches has now all disappeared into a small pile of white ash. Job accomplished, much fun had. Marvellous.